


XX

by blaschko



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Canon Divergence, FTM Daryl, Gen, M/M, Potentially including the most recent episodes, Pre-Slash, Spoilers for season one and beyond, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blaschko/pseuds/blaschko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick finds out at the CDC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rick found out when they were at the CDC. They had running water for the first time since everything started, and everyone was eager for a shower. Everyone but Daryl, who waited for everyone else to finish before he stepped into the public stalls. The warm water had long gone, but that was alright, at least it was running and clean. Daryl stripped quickly, avoiding the mirrors, and stepped into a stall. The water that hit him was like a breath of fresh air, washing away the grime and blood that had made its home on his skin. He spent longer than he normally would washing himself, indulging in the feeling of being cleaned.

He was just stepping out of the shower when Rick walked in; Daryl hadn't heard him enter the bathroom.

"Oh, Dar-"

Daryl froze for a split second, staring at Rick. Rick stared back, eyes sweeping curiously up and down his body, his mouth falling open. Daryl stumbed back into the shower in an effort to cover himself up, but fell backwards on the way.

"Daryl!" Rick's head appeared in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

"Go away," Daryl growled, curling into himself, face burning with embarassment. He couldn't bear to look Rick in the eye. He pressed his forehead to his knees and waited to be left alone. He wasn't. Instead, he felt a light touch on his shoulder and flinched.

"Daryl," Rick said cautiously, "Are you alright?" 

"Leave me alone."

"Dar-"

"Please."

There was a moment of tense silence. Daryl closed his eyes tightly and prayed that Rick would leave him alone. Finally the warm hand on his shoulder lifted away. Daryl waited a minute longer after he could no longer hear Rick's foosteps, then sprang up and dressed himself as fast as he could, not bothering to dry himself off. He didn't need someone else to walk in on him. He fled to his room, thanking his lucky stars that the halls were empty.

Only when he stopped moving and stood with his back pressed to the door, did Daryl realise how fast his heart was beating. His hands were in fists by his sides, and his eyes burned. Slowly, he willed his muscles to relax and allowed himself to slide down to the floor, pressing his palms to his eyes as though he could keep the tears from spilling. They came anyway, hot and wet on his cheeks. A sob escaped him and he clamped a hand over his mouth. _Pussy._ His brother's voice echoed in his head. _Cryin' like a little girl._ He shook, his body wracked with silent sobs. 

A few moments went by when knock on the door startled him. He held his breath, hoping no one had heard him.

"Daryl?"

Rick. Daryl felt cold panic wash over him again and he clenched his jaw, letting air out slowly through his mouth. His breath hitched as he breathed in and he gripped his hair, willing himself to calm down. He didn't want to face Rick again, not ever. The pain helped him think. He swallowed and tried to focus on his breathing. In and out. 

Rick called his name again, but Daryl ignored him. His ragged breaths evened out after a few minutes, and he was left with a lump in his throat. Rick hadn't knocked again. Daryl shifted slightly and pressed an ear to the door. It sounded like there was no one there. Feeling relieved, he blinked away the salty tears and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was exhausted. The bed was only a few feet away, so he dragged himself to his feet and stripped down to his underwear, his trembling fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers. Collapsing into the bed, Daryl crawled under the covers and curled in on himself, falling asleep instantly.

\---

Daryl awoke the next morning with a headache. For a moment he was confused, it had been a long time since he'd last woken up with a hangover. Then the memory of last night hit him, and he cursed, sitting up quickly. His back sent a sharp stab of pain down his spine and he winced.

Rick knew.

The thought replayed itself in his head over and over and Daryl forced himself to stop. To think logically. It was possible that Rick didn't even know what he saw, what it meant. More than possible, it was very likely. After all, there were so few people like him, especially in Georgia. And Daryl didn't even know what Rick had seen, or not seen. He'd just bolted, like a buck catching a whiff of a wolf in the air, not stopping to just think. These thoughts calmed him down marginally, and Daryl slowly got dressed. 

He started at a soft knock on the door, and cursed himself silently for being so jumpy.

"Daryl?" Rick again. The man was persistant- a trait Daryl would've ordinarily admired, if it weren't such a pain in the ass. Daryl stayed silent, hoping the other man would give up.

"Daryl, I know you're in there. We're gonna have this talk now, even if it's gotta be me talkin' through the door at you. Though I don't figure this is a conversation that oughta be had in public."

Daryl cursed and strode to the door, pulling it open and glaring at Rick. His gut twisted at the sight of the other man, and he felt heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"Ain't nothin' t'talk about," he said, voice low and angry. 

"We both know there is," Rick said calmly, "Now are you gonna let me in, or are we gonna do this in the hall?"

Daryl glared at Rick, who looked back coolly in return. Daryl scowled and stepped back to let Rick in, nearly flinching as the other man brushed past him. He closed the door softly, resisting the urge to slam it shut. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Rick, preparing himself for confrontation.

The room was quiet as the two men stared each other down. Rick looked wary, like he expected Daryl to start yelling and cursing at him for being so nosy, but there was a firm determination in his eyes. Daryl knew that Rick would keep pressing him until he talked, but just 'cause he knew it was inevitable didn't mean that he planned to make the job any easier for Rick. There was no way he would be the first to speak. As it became clear that Daryl intended to remain quiet, the confidence Rick had had seemed to waver. He shuffled nervously from one foot to another and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Well, I s'pose I should start off by apologising. For walkin' in on you," Daryl's eyebrow rose of its own accord, and Rick continued quickly, "I mean, I know I don't know you very well-"

"You don't know me at all," Daryl interrupted, glowering.

"I know," Rick said hastily, "But I wanna get to know you-"

"Why?" The less he knew, the less he could use against Daryl, should he ever have reason to.

"Because you're a part of the group-" Daryl scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Rick frowned and stepped forward, forcing Daryl to look up at him.

"Listen, whether you like it or not, you are a part of this group. And that means we gotta learn to trust each other. I understand that there are things you don't wanna tell me right now, and that's fine. But I need you to know that you can trust me, and that you can talk to me. About anything."

The unspoken words hung in the air, heavy on Daryl's shoulders. He stared at Rick, caught between disbelief and a desperate yearning to put faith in the man before him. He shook his head slowly, unable to give over that sort of trust to a man he barely knew. Rick let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair, breaking their eye contact. 

"Sooner or later Daryl, we're gonna need to talk about- about what I saw."

Daryl's face felt hot. His stomach was in tangles from nerves and he felt sick.

"But it can wait. Whenever you're ready."

"And if I never am?" Daryl was relieved that his voice remained steady as he spoke. Rick pursed his lips. 

"Then we'll see."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Daryl asked, before he could stop himself. The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them. The vunrebility in his voice was unmistakable.

"Of course not," Rick said, looking curiously at Daryl, "This is between you and me, ain't nobody else's business."

Despite himself, Daryl felt the tension in his body ease off a little. He nodded curtly, not trusting his voice to hold steady. Rick looked like he was going to say something else, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Daryl?" it was Lori, "Have you seen Rick? His breakfast's gettin' cold."

Daryl looked at Rick, who shook his head slowly.

"Haven't seen 'im," he lied easily, "Let y'know if I do."

"Okay, thanks Daryl," there was a pause, "You should get down for some breakfast too."

Daryl grunted in response, his eyes trained on Rick, who offered a small smile. They stood still a moment, until they were sure Lori had gone.

"I guess that's it," Rick said finally. The tension in the room had dissipated, leaving an awkward silence in the air. The quiet was broken by a growling noise. Rick snorted, looking down at his stomach.

"Guess I better go get somethin' to eat 'fore the noise starts attractin' walkers."

Daryl had to fight a smile- the relief from tension made him feel giddy and confused. He nodded and stepped to the side, letting Rick through.

"See you down there?" There was a tentative hope in Rick's eyes, and Daryl sighed.

"Yeah." 

Rick smiled and walked out, lightly shutting the door behind him. Daryl stood for a moment, then rested his forehead against the door frame. Breathing deeply, he counted to ten. 

Rick was good man. He wouldn't tell anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flashbacks are in italics. sorry this took so long.

_Daryl was running low. Since his medication wasn't exactly easy to come by at the best of times, let alone during the apocalypse, he was already on the lowest dose possible. Merle had volunteered to go to Atlanta for him, since Daryl was the better hunter of the two, and they'd needed fresh meat. Hesitant to let his brother leave without him, he'd argued, but to no avail. Merle could be one stubborn son of a bitch. Secretly, however, Daryl was glad. He always had been more comfortable in the forest than in the city. People tended to rub him the wrong way._

_The snap of a branch drew him from his musings, and he looked towards the source of the noise. A deer. Daryl felt a familiar calm descend over him as he carefully took aim with his crossbow. Finally, some proper food that wasn't squirrel or rabbit. He squeezed the trigger just the deer startled, and his shot went wide. The arrow hit the deer's flank and he cursed, loading another one. The deer had stumbled from the force of the hit, but recovered quickly. His next shot hit his target, but the damn thing kept going._

_Adjusting his crossbow and the squirrels he'd caught on his shoulder, Daryl got up and started after it. The adrenaline would keep the deer going a while, but sooner rather than later it would collapse. Daryl wanted to make sure he got to it before anything else did._

_After a few quiet miles of tracking, he found himself closer to camp. Which was good, since he wouldn't have to drag the deer as far. As he passed through a bush, he startled backwards reflexively when he saw a gun pointed at him. Shane's gun. He scoffed and relaxed, eyes falling upon the dead deer on the ground._

_"Son of a bitch!" There was a body on the ground next to the deer, and the deer itself had a huge chunk taken out of it. Daryl walked to it to get a better look, ignoring the crowd that had gathered._

_"Tha's my deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, diease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard!" Each insult was punctuated by a kick to the corpse._

_"Calm down son, that's not helpin'," Dale said._

_Dale's comment only served to further his frustration. Daryl stepped up to him, snarling._

_"What do you know 'bout it old man? You take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'."_

_He sighed as he walked back to the deer, drawing his arrows out from its flesh and wiping them clean, "'ve been trackin' this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What d'you think-" he gestured at the bites, "Think we could cut around this chewed up part right here?"_

_Even as he asked, he knew the answer would be no. The risk of getting infected was not something they'd be willing to take- it wasn't like they were starving just yet. Bitter resentment burned in his veins, but Daryl consoled himself with the fact that he hadn't come back empty-handed._

_"S'a damn shame. I got some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so. It'll have to do."_  
 _As he made to get back to camp, a movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention. The walker head was still moving._

_"C'mon people, what the hell?" he shot an arrow through its head; the sound of the arrow hitting its mark remarkably satisfying._

_"It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothin'?" Daryl asked looking around at the group as he retrieved his arrow. His gaze lingered on an unfamiliar face but besides a brief glance, Daryl paid him no mind. Must've been picked up in Atlanta or something. Speaking of, Merle had to be back by now._

_"Merle," he called out, making his way up to the campsite, "Merle! Get your ugly ass out here. Got us some squirrel. Let's do 'em up."_  
 _Daryl was eager to see if his brother had managed to get anything for him. His next shot was in a few days and he was on his last vial. If Merle didn't find anything, Daryl was screwed. He'd have to make a trip to Atlanta himself._

_"Slow up a bit, I need to talk to you," said Shane, walking up to Daryl. The rest of the crowd from the forest followed._

_"'Bout what?" Daryl was wary. He and Shane didn't exactly get along well, and Daryl didn't figure anything good could come of the other man wanting a word with him. All the people looking at him made him nervous._

_"'Bout Merle. There was a- there was a problem in Atlanta."_

_Daryl felt a cold spike of fear in his gut, despite the sweltering heat in the air. A problem in Atlanta. Merle wasn't at the camp. First thing that came to mind was that his brother was dead, or bit. Daryl fought the trembling that started in his chest and gathered himself enough to speak._

_"He dead?" he asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer._

_"Not sure," came the reply. Rather than feel relief, Daryl felt even worse. What did Shane mean by that? Dread sat heavy in his belly._

_"He either is or he ain't!" he spat, pacing around Shane._

_"No easy way to say this," a foreign voice interjected, "So I'll just say it."_

_Daryl turned to see the unfamiliar man striding towards him. He clenched his fists- of course the stranger had something to do with it._

_"Who're you?" he asked, frustrated at the lack of information he was being given._

_"Rick Grimes."_

_"Rick Grimes?" Daryl mocked, "Got somethin' you wanna tell me?"_

_"Your brother was a danger to us all," the words sounded rehearsed, cold, "So I handcuffed him on a roof hooked into a piece of metal. He's still there."_

_"Hold on," Daryl said, feeling his frustration building. There were tears blurring his sight and he wiped at his eyes to clear his vision. "Lemme process this. You're sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a roof?" he raised his voice until he was shouting, "And you left him there?"_

_"Yeah," the other man- Rick, nodded. His voice was so damned calm. Daryl grew heated, and his face twisted up in anger. Snarling, he threw the squirrels he had tied together at Rick and charged, but Shane came out of nowhere and knocked him down to the ground. Furious, Daryl pulled out his knife. Rage and tears blurring his vision, he swiped at Rick, who caught his hand with a practiced ease and, with the help of Shane, freed him of his knife._

_"You best let me go!" Daryl growled, scrabbling to get out of headlock Shane put him in._

_"Ah, think it's better if I don't."_

_"Chokedhold's illegal," Daryl gasped, still struggling. He felt light headed from the lack of oxygen, and his vision swam._

_"Hey, file a complaint."_

_Daryl barely heard Shane over the pounding of blood in his ears. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest and his knees were weak. Unwillingly, he stopped struggling, his hands wrapped around Shane's forearms, trying to get space for him to breathe._

_"C'mon man, we can keep this up all day," Shane said as he lowered Daryl to the ground. Daryl huffed and gasped, but said nothing._

_Suddenly Rick was kneeling before him._

_"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic, y'think we can manage that?" Rick asked. Daryl wanted to say no, wanted to kick the bastard in the face, but he could barely breathe. Rick repeated his question more firmly. Daryl stayed quiet, not wanting them to have the satisfaction of besting him. Rick and Shane mumbled something to each other, then all of a sudden Daryl was free. He scrambled away from them, gasping for air._

_"What I did was not on a whim," said Rick, warily moving closer. Daryl didn't have the energy to move back, so he just glared at the oher man, "Your brother does not work and play well with others."_

_"S'not Rick's fault," T-Dog came forward, "I had the key. I dropped it."_

_"You couldn't pick it up?" He rasped, thoat sore. Daryl's anger was already fading, replaced by exasperation and exhaustion. Tracking the deer had taken a toll, physically and mentally._

_"Well, I dropped it down a drain," T-Dog said. Of course. Of all the things that could go wrong. Murphy's Law and all that. Daryl let out a noise between a groan and a snort and pulled himself labourously to his feet._

_"If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't," he said, frustratedly throwing a handful of dirt T-Dog._

_"Maybe this will. Look, I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him. With a padlock."_

_"'S gotta count for somethin'," said Rick from behind Daryl. As though that was supposed to be of any comfort. Daryl couldn't help the near-whimper that escaped him. He wiped his eyes, suddenly aware of the tears welling up again._

_"To hell with all o' y'all!" he cried out, voice wavering, "Just tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im."_

_He made a point to glare at Rick, who stared coolly back._

_"He'll show you," said Lori from the shade of the trailer, "Isn't that right."_

_Daryl furrowed his brow, waiting for an answer. After a long pause, Rick spoke, looking up at Daryl sincerely._

_"I'm goin' back."_

_Daryl squashed the small spark of gratitude he felt at the man's words. If it wasn't for Rick, his brother wouldn't be locked up on a roof. He wrung his hands in frustration and went to get ready to leave, trying to ignore the sliver of guilt stuck in his gut. Merle was in Atlanta because of him. If anything happened to his brother- Daryl would never be able to forgive himself._

_He packed quickly and lightly, since they wouldnt be in Atlanta for long, and he left plenty of room in his backpack for medication. Merle would kill him if he didn't use this trip to grab himself some meds. Daryl clenched his jaw at the thought of his brother, fighting back the rising lump in his throat as he threw his backpack over his shoulder and went to find the others._

_\---_

_The drive to Atlanta felt agonisingly long; Daryl could feel the minutes slipping away, and the longer Merle was on that roof, the less likely it was that they were going to find him. Less likely that they were going find him alive._

_When they got to the roof- when Daryl saw Merle's hand- he was hit with a wave of relief. His brother was alive; he'd gotten away. But then the anger came. Merle was injured, and the chance of him surviving was frighteningly low. Blind with rage, Daryl turned on T-Dog, prepared to fire a bolt into the man's head. The click of a gun and the cool metal against his temple brought him to a halt._

_"I won't hestitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it," Rick's voice was firm, and grounding. Daryl stood still for a moment. Halfway tempted to pull the trigger, he took a deep breath and forced himself to cool down. Blinking away tears, he lowered the crossbow and stared angrily at T-Dog._

_"You got a- a do-rag or somethin'?" he asked, reverting his focus back to his brother. He would take the hand with him. He needed a piece of his brother to remind himself that there was hope, that Merle could've gotten out alive. He was the toughest son of a bitch Daryl knew._  
 _After securing the hand in Glenn's backpack, he dicscreetly looked over the roof, looking for a baggy of medication, or Merle's backpack, anything._

_He found nothing._

_The search for Merle in the building yielded the same results. Daryl took comfort in the fact that his brother was alive, but he hated the uncertainty of the whole situation. Guilt gnawed at him when he turned his thoughts to himself and his meds. If it wasn't for Daryl, Merle wouldn't even have needed to go to Atlanta. If it wasn't for Daryl, Merle would be back in camp, and none of this would've happened._

_Standing at the bloody window, he swallowed past the ever-present lump in his throat, and turned his thoughts from his brother's fate- focused on finding him instead._

_"What are his odds out there?" T-Dog asked. Daryl felt another flare of anger in his chest, but he smothered it before it could catch._

_"No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks," he spat back, pacing to relieve some of his nervous energy. When he turned he came face-to-face Rick._

_"You couldn't kill 'im," he said, staring the other man down, "Ain't so worried 'bout some dumb dead bastard."_

_Rick's eyes flicked up to meet his own. Daryl was almost disconcerted by the intensity of his gaze, and he felt his hackles rise in response. They were far too close for Daryl's liking, and he felt uncomfortable prickles along the back of his neck. He fought his discomfort as Rick moved closer, there was no chance he'd let the other man intimidate him into stepping back._

_"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards?" Rick asked, his steely eyes piercing through Daryl, "Different story?"_

_"Why don't y'take a tally. Do what y'want. Imma go get him," Daryl moved to sidestep Rick but was stopped by a warm hand on his chest pushing him back forcefully._

_"Daryl wait-"_

_"Getcher hands off me! You can't stop me-"_

_"I don't blame you- he's family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel," Rick's eyes searched his, and damned if he wasn't genuine, "He can't get far with that injury. We could help you check a few blocks around, but only if we keep a level head."_

_Daryl searched Rick's face for any sign of malice, but didn't find any. Rick seemed honestly willing to help him find his brother. Daryl forced himself to think. Finding Merle would be easier with four people rather than one, plus getting him back to camp would be less of a struggle. Logic gave way to emotion._

_"I can do that."_

_He convinced himself he was doing what was best, what was most likely to find Merle. But despite his reasoning, a quiet voice in his head still whispered that he was abandoning his brother, and despite himself, Daryl could feel the dark guily in his belly get heavier._

_He would find his brother, no matter what._

\---

Looking for the Sophia was exhausting. Daryl could feel the burden on his shoulders growing heavier with each passing day. It was hard enough surviving by yourself without the walkers, especially for a kid. The longer they spent looking, the further his hope was diminished of ever finding her.

Having a horse did make the search easier, however, and Daryl was glad for that. He covered more ground faster than he would've on foot.

He kept his eyes and ears open while they trotted through the forest, but with his mind on walkers and finding the little girl, Daryl was not prepared when the horse started. A sudden twitch was all the warning he got before the horse began to buck and rear up, dislodging him quickly. For a few moments, the world was a swirl of confusion; flashes of green, blue, and brown streaked in front of his eyes as he fell.

Daryl hit the water with a grunt and a splash, aware of a sudden sharp pain in his side that stung with every breath.

"Son of a bitch!" he gasped, trying to get his quickened breaths under control. He could feel something trickling down his forehead, but he couldn't tell if it was water or blood. Probably both. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the clear water turning a murky red. Panic shot through him, and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowned out the trickling of the stream and his own laboured breaths.

His fingers inched across his stomach, searching for injury. Daryl's vision was blurry and he blinked up at the sky trying to clear it. Taking a deep breath against the pain, he lifted his head and peered down at his torso. The sight that greeted him was bad: blood pooled in the water around him, and there was an arrow sticking out of his side. Daryl groaned and let his head drop back, gathering strength until he could haul himself up, pressing one hand to the wound and leaning on the other. Gasping, he dragged himself to shore.

Once his knees hit the sandy beach, Daryl pulled out his knife and ripped his shirtsleeves off. The makeshift bandage wasn't great, but it would keep him from bleeding out. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tightened the material around his side. The pressure made his eyes water, but it helped, and he made to stand, blinking to clear away the tears.

The adrenaline in his veins began to ease off, and he stood, looking up with his hand on his side and a grim blanket of hopelessness settling over him. The ridge he had to climb was steep and tall, difficult even without injury.

Huffing, Daryl steeled himself mentally. If there was one thing Dixons were good at, it was surviving. His brother wouldn't have gone down without a fight; Merle survived being chained to a roof- he'd cut off his own hand. Daryl was lucky compared to him.

Taking care to twist as little as possible, Daryl search the ground for a stick. If he had any chance of surviving, it lay in his crossbow- but he had to find it first. A rustling in the bushes drew his attention away. He stood still, eyes scanning the foliage for any hint of a walker's presence. When there was no further movement, Daryl let out a painful breath. He made his way quickly back into the water; time was of the essence and the sooner he had his bow, the more chance he had of surviving.

The water was disturbed and murky, so he ran the stick along the bed of the stream. Vibrations from the trickling water and rocks made the wood hard to hold, but soon enough he hit something significantly bigger than a rock. He bent down into the cool water, one hand searching while the other clutched his side. His knuckles scraped something hard and he grabbed onto it tightly, raising out his dripping crossbow. A small flame of triumph sparked inside him and he felt the despair weighing him down lift a little. He could do this.

In order to get up the steep incline, he needed his hands free, so he tied the crossbow opposite his injured side and gripped his stick tightly in one hand. He went slowly, stabbing the rod into the earth and heaving himself up. It was hard to use his upper body- the pain from the wound radiated up to his shoulder and around his torso. Falling down the hill, Daryl had gotten pretty banged up, in addition to the injury to his side. He kept his eyes focused upwards, doing his best to fight through the ache in his body.

About halfway up he stopped to catch his breath. At this point his stick was more of a hinderace than a help, and he tossed it away. Hand wrapped tightly around a small tree, he turned and watched if fall down the hill. He was a dizzying way up from the ground, and the hand on the tree tightened. Daryl turned back and went to pull himself up again, but the pain in his side stopped him.

"C'mon," he muttered to himself, "You've gone half, stop bein' such a pussy."

He took a deep breath and exhaled quickly, reaching up again- but once again falling short. The dirt slid from underneath him and his arm flailed, trying to grasp a tree, a root- anything that would stop him from falling. His grip weakened and as he scrabbled to regain his lost footing, he fell.

\---

The forest was bright with the midday sun, and birds chirped in the trees. The trickling of the stream was soothing and Daryl didn't want to open his eyes; the bright light filtering through the leaves coaxed them shut and warmed his face pleasantly. A shadow fell across his face, disturbing him from his warm dozing. Squinting up at the blurry figure, Daryl became aware of an uncomfortable ache in his side.

"Why don't y'pull that arrow out dummy- you could bind your wound better."

A smile tugged at Daryl's lips as the shadowy form above him took shape as his older brother.

"Merle."

His brother smirked.

"What's goin' on here," he asked, motioning down Daryl's body, "You takin' a siesta or somethin'?"

"Shitty day bro."

"Hmh, like me to getcha a pillow? Maybe rub your feet."

"Screw you," Daryl retorted, too tired to come up with anything better. Merle chucked.

"You're the one who's screwed, from the looks of it. All them years I spent tryin' to make a _man_ of you- this what I get? Look atcha, lyin' in the dirt like a used rubber. You gonna die out here little brother, and for what?"

"Girl," Daryl rasped. Merle's words stung, but it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. His brother liked to tease him, but Daryl knew he meant nothing by it. He just got nasty when he was annoyed, is all, and sometimes the words hurt more than they were meant to. Daryl swallowed.

"They lost a lil girl."

"So you got a thing for little girls now?" Merle asked.

"Shut up."

"'Cause I noticed you ain't out lookin' for ole Merle no more."

Daryl felt the acidic burn of guilt in his stomach. Merle had a point, but it wasn't like Daryl hadn't tried to find him. It was a culmination of events that drew Daryl away from his brother, and he could no more be blamed for it than he could for the weather.

"Tried like hell to find you bro."

"Like hell y'did. You split, man. Got out first chance you got."

"You got out. All you had to do was wait. We went back for you, Rick an' I," Daryl nodded weakly, "We did right by you."

"This the same Rick that cuffed me to the rooftop in the first place? Forced me to cut off my own hand?" Merle sneered as Daryl's gaze drifted down to Merle's intact hands. His side throbbed.

"This who we talkin' 'bout here? You his bitch now?"

"I ain't nobody's bitch," he said, lacking energy, but not conviction.

"You're a joke, is what you are. Playin' errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, niggers, and democrats. You're nothing but a freak to them. Redneck trash. 's all y'are. They're laughing atcha behind your back- you know that, dontcha? Look, I've got news for you son- one of these days, they're gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dog shit."

Keeping his eyes open and focused was turning out to be too much of an effort. Daryl let his tired eyelids droop and his head to loll down to the side.

"Hey. They ain't your kin. Your blood. Hell, you had any damned nuts in that sack o' yours, you'd go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me. Now you listen to me," he continued, turning Daryl's face to him with a light touch to his chin, "Ain't nobody ever gonna care about you 'cept me lil brother," he patted Daryl's cheek, "Ain't nobody ever will. C'mon, get up on your feet 'fore I have to kick your teeth in."

Merle stood and kicked his foot.

"Let's go," he said, tugging at Daryl's foot. After a few more tugs Daryl became aware of an odd noise. It sounded like snarling. He turned his gaze downwards and reality hit him like a train. Merle had disappeared and in his place was a walker, gnawing on Daryl's foot. He started and the walker looked up at him, pure hunger in its eyes. Panic flooded his veins and he gasped, scrambling away from the dead man at his feet.

Daryl threw a hand out, reaching desperately for his crossbow, but it was just out of his reach and the walker was back on him and getting closer. Adrenaline fuelling him, he swung at the walker, giving him enough time to grab his knife from his waist and stab. The blow knocked it down and to the side. Daryl grappled with it, face far to close to gnashing, rotten teeth for comfort. He managed to dislodge the walker, and in the periphery of his vision, he saw another shape stumbling toward him.

He spotted his stick and grabbed it with fumbling fingers. Daryl knocked the walker down and got on top. One, two, three hits caved its in face, and the final blow drove the wood through its brain.

Falling back, Daryl grasped the arrow in his side and pulled, the pain blinding him for a brief moment. Stuggling to hold on to consciousness, he fumbled for his crossbow. With the arrow held between his teeth he could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue, and he focused on drawing back the string of his bow, arms shaking with the effort of pulling it up. The click of the string as it locked in place broke the tension in his arms and he felt sweat break across his forehead. Taking the arrow from between his teeth, he placed it in the bow and leaned back, rapidly but carefully aiming for the walker's head. He only had one shot.

With a click and the thump of the walker's body hitting the ground, it was over. Daryl lay back gasping, every breath a sweet pain in his side. Clutching at his stomach he closed his eyes and bathed in the warm afternoon sun until his breathing evened out.

\---

Daryl started awake, unaware that he'd dozed of. For a moment he wondered why he was outside lying in the dirt, before a shooting pain in his side reminded him. He sat up slowly, propping himself up with one hand and using the other to wipe at his tear-stained face. The two walkers he'd killed lay undisturbed by him, their presence a grim reminder of what could befall him.

With a renewed determination, Daryl prepared himself for another attempt at climbing the steep hill he'd fallen down. Sacrificing the rest of his shirt, he made a better dressing for his wound. Merle had been right, it was easier to bind. With the wound taken care of, for the time being, he could focus on getting back to the farm. The familiar ache of hunger was gnawing at his stomach, and Daryl remembered the squirrel he'd caught.

The creature was small, and largely unfullfilling, but he would take what he could get. Licking his fingers clean of the sticky blood, he rinsed his hands in the stream before grabbing the doll he'd found earlier- Sophia's doll. He stuffed it between his bandage on the opposite side of his wound, tying his crossbow alongside it.

Glancing back at the walkers on the ground, he felt anger boiling under his skin. Before he realised what he was doing, he'd went and methodically cut the ears of the dead things on the ground. Daryl tied the ears by a shoelace around his neck and felt a cool satisfaction at feel of the dead men's cold skin brushing his.

For the second time he looked up at the steep hill, the challenge still standing before him. He gritted his teeth and started climbing.

\---

The sun beat down mercilessly on the back of his neck, burning down each one of his vertabrea and pooling into the hole in his side. Pausing to take a breath, Daryl squinted up at the bright sky, the foliage shifting and swirling with cool blues and greens blending together. A menacing screech filled the air and a voice above him said:

"Please, don't feed the birds."

Daryl's breathing quicked as he shifted his gaze down to the top of the cliff where his brother stood chucking. Daryl looked away, his fingers tightening around the branches he was holding on to.

"What's the matter _Darlena_? That all y'got in you? Let go of that purse an' climb!"

As much as he tried, Daryl couldn't stop the strained noises that escaped him as he worked to pull himself up. Merle's voice was grinding in his ears and he wished his brother would leave him alone. _Liked y'better when you was missin'_ , he thought velhemently. A laugh above startled him.

"Aw c'mon, don't be like that. 'm on your side!"

"Yeah? Since when?" he spat. His arms were heavy, and trembled as he held on. Daryl looked around for an easier path up, but his head was unsteady and lolled about uncomfortably. He would have to continue straight up.

"Hell, since the day you were born baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass."

Daryl couldn't see his face, but he knew what expression Merle wore. It was that condecendingly pitying stare he wore sometimes, when he thought Daryl wasn't looking.

"You never took care o'me. Talk a big game but you was never there!" Daryl growled. All the times when his brother left him at the hands of his father, when he'd go out partying and leave Daryl helpless and alone, and now here he was, pretending to be there for him? It occurred to him that his brother wasn't truly there, that he'd been left on a roof in Atlanta. That Daryl had left without him. The thought stung.

"Hell, you ain't here now," he scoffed, "Some things never change."

"Well I tell you what, I'm as real as your _chupacabra_ ," Merle said, mocking him.

"I know what I saw," he grunted as he turned, pulling himself up another foot or so. Distantly he thought to hurry, that he shouldn't waste time talking to the spectre of his brother.

"Yeah and I'm sure those shrooms you ate had nothin' to do with it, right?" Merle looked down at him with a malicious glint in his eye.

"You best shut the hell up!" Rage flared up in him. Even now, Daryl could remember the creature. The eyes that burned through him and the paralysing fear he'd felt; there was no way he imagined that.

"Or what? You gon come up here and shut my mouth for me? C'mon and do it then, if you think you're _man_ enough."

Daryl pushed his brother's words from his mind. He knew Merle didn't mean it, knew he was riling him up, but it didn't stop the sting. Daryl latched onto the anger and frustration and focused it all on climbing.

"Hey, kick off them damn high heels and climb, son!"

Bit by bit, he pulled himself up, Merle's laughter ringing in his ears.

"You know what, if I were you, I'd take a fall for the cause brother, 'cause I just don't think you can make it to the top."

Shaking his head to clear it, Daryl ignored Merle and kept going up- he was almost at the top.

"C'mon. C'mon little brother, grab your friend Rick's hand!"

With a final burst of strength, Daryl wrenched himself up, aiming his hand for Merle's, but instead of the calloused flesh of his brother's palm that he was expecting, his hand met the dirt and dried grass of the forest's floor. Gasping, he pulled himself up unto his knees, then to his feet. Glancing around, he found Merle to be nowhere in sight.

"Yeah, you better run!" he bellowed at the ghost of his brother. Swaying on his feet he stepped forward and began to make the long journey back to the farm.

\---

The ground was a blur as Daryl stumbled along, his his muscles like jelly in his skin. The world was muffled around him and the only clear sound was his heartbeat throbbing in his head, and the gasp of his breath as he struggled to work past the pain in this side and keep going.

He almost didn't notice when the forest gave way to field, but the pine needles and dirt turned to grass under his feet and he allowed himself to look up. In front of him was the farm. A spark of hope ignited in his chest and he almost let himself relax. As much as he yearned to sit down and sleep, he couldn't when he was so close. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to walk as fast as he could with his crossbow dragging behind him.

Faintly, Daryl could hear voices yelling over the chirping of the crickets and his heart pounding in his ears. Four blurs were coming quickly towards him and Daryl slowed, squinting at them. He blinked a few times and his vision cleared, and he found Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Glenn standing in front of him. His heart skipped a bit as he stared down the barrel of a pistol at Rick, not entirely sure if any of them were real. One of the group said something, but Daryl was too busy tyring to pull himself together enough not to pass out that he didn't hear. His eyes flickered from the gun to Rick's face, taking in the worried wrinkles lining his eyes and mouth. Rick looked wary and concerned, but there was a firm set to his jaw that told Daryl that he would not hesitate to shoot if he thought Daryl was a walker.

"That's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head," he rasped, "Y'gonna pull the trigger or what?"

The relief in the air was almost palapable and Daryl would've grinned if he could. Out of nowhere there was a crack through the still air and Daryl felt a burn grazing along his head, the force of it knocking him down. He hit the ground and the world exploded in pain. For what felt like eternity, all he could see was bright flashes of colour dancing in his vision, fading and swirling together slowly until they took form as Rick and Shane's panicked faces. They hoisted him up and the world tilted dizzily, and then righted itself.

Daryl could feel blood trickling down his temple, but hardly felt any pain. He wiped a hand across his hairline and wasn't surprised to see the blood on his fingers.

"I was kiddin'," he gasped as the corners of his vision crumbled into blackness.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a year.......... i shouldn'tve uploaded 'till i had more done......... oh well i can't help it now ¯\\_(-v-)_/¯  
> you have my eternal apologies

Daryl flickered in and out of consciousness as he was half-dragged, half-carried back to the house. The world was a blur of of pain and colours, of silence and the sound of Rick's voice saying his name. When he came back to himself, it felt as though seconds had passed since he first fainted, but he knew from experience it had to have been more. Shane and Rick were gently lowering him into a soft bed in a clean room, and Daryl did what he could to make their job easier. Looking at the crisp lines of the sheets, he felt a sliver of guilt worm its way into his gut. He held himself gingerly, trying to dirty as little of the surface as possible, but even lying upright was difficult; Daryl was exhausted, and he could barely mask his trembling as it was.

"Daryl," Hershel said, moving a chair over to the bedside and picking up a pair of scissors, "I need to get to your wound. You shouldn’t be moving, so I'm going to cut your shirt off."

Daryl suddenly felt nervous. He didn't want to show off his scars in front of so many people, especially Rick. But he didn't want to make a big deal about his shirt either; the important scars were nearly invisible now anyway. He steeled himself and gave Hershel a curt nod, keeping his eyes low. He felt a tug at the bottom of his shirt and shivered as the cool metal slid up his chest, neatly cutting it open. Hershel peeled the remains off gingerly, taking good care not to disturb Daryl's wound further. Daryl kept his eyes on the steady hands, fighting the heat crawling up his neck as more of his torso was exposed. Thankfully, no one said anything, and Daryl relaxed minutely.

"I need you turn onto your side," Hershel said, his gentle hands guiding Daryl into a more comfortable position on his side, "I going to disinfect the area as much as I can."

Daryl was glad Hershel was talking- it gave him something to focus on. Hershel explained what he was using to clean Daryl's wound in a soft, calm voice, and slowly Daryl released the sheets clenched his fists. He risked a glance up at the other occupants in the room; Shane was lounging in a chair by the bed, his head tipped back and eyes closed. Daryl looked over to Rick, and was startled when he found the other man gazing back at him with concern written all over the lines of his face. Daryl swallowed and looked away, resisting the urge to clutch again at the soft white sheets of the bed. With a final swipe across Daryl's side, Hershel finished his disinfecting and he turned away to prepare the tools he needed to stitch Daryl up.

"You found Sophia's doll," Shane said, sitting up and cracking his neck, "Care to show us where?" 

Rick stepped forward and rolled a map out in front of Daryl. He crouched down so that they were eye to eye.

"I would prefer to wait 'till you're better to start askin' questions, but I know you understand how time sensitive this sorta stuff is," he said, voice apologetic.

"Right," Daryl grunted, shifting himself into a more comfortable position to scan the paper before him.

"I'm going to start the suturing now," Hershel warned. Daryl took a moment to prepare himself. Stitches were uncomfortable, but not something he was entirely unused to. He gritted his teeth as the needle pierced his skin, but the pain was only a sharp sting that was quickly lost in the dull ache that his body throbbed with.

"I found it washed up on a creek bed right there," he said, talking through the pain. He pointed to the spot on the map, and Rick marked it down.

"She must'a dropped it crossin' it somewhere," his voice hitched at the pull of thread in his skin.

"Cuts the grid almost in half," Rick noted, turning to look at Shane.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Daryl grunted, turning as much as he could to see how far along Hershel was in the sewing. Thankfully, the stitches were almost done.

"Hows he lookin?" Rick asked. Daryl glanced back at him, and Rick was looking at his side with barely hidden worry in his eyes. Hershel moved to cut the last thread,

and Daryl's attention went back to the hands holding the scissors, ignoring the way his heart sped up at the look on Rick's face.

"I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly," Hershel answered as he snipped the final thread, "Any idea what happened to my horse?"

"Yeah, the one that almost killed me? If it's smart it left the country," Daryl muttered, with no real fire behind his words. He inspected the sutures- it was good work: better than his or Merle's at least.

"We call that one Nelly- as in Nervous Nelly. I could've told you she'd throw you if you'd bothered to ask. It's a wonder you people have survived this long."

Daryl nearly scoffed at that, but he held his tongue. He had no energy to get in an argument at the moment, and now that his wound was taken care of, he was eager to get some rest. He laid back and tuned out to the rest of the conversation, opting to doze while he could. A shadow fell across him and he blinked to find Rick standing by his side.

"We're gonna leave you to rest now. If you need somethin', holler. I'll bring you dinner later tonight, alright?" Rick said. Daryl just nodded in reply, his eyes already closing of their own accord. He felt a warm hand squeeze his shoulder, and didn't even have the energy to flinch away as he drifted off into sleep.

\---

He awoke shortly after sunset, the sky still tinged with flecks of red and orange. It was the pain that woke him; a dull throb under his ribs that turned into a steadily increasing sharpness, tugging him out of sleep. Daryl groaned quietly and tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but only succeeded in sending shooting pains down his side. He groaned and fell back, freezing at a knock on the door. It creaked as it swung open and Rick peered through the crack, smiling when he saw that Daryl was awake. Suddenly aware of how exposed he was, Daryl pulled the covers up as casually as he could, not missing the way Rick's eyes flicked down to follow the movement.

"How're you feelin'?" Rick asked, setting the plate in his hand down on the bedside table. Daryl inclined his head in response, and when he didn't offer up anything else, Rick continued, "Uh, Hershel said to give you another dose of medication after you eat, so I brought you dinner."

Daryl felt hunger gnaw at his stomach at the mention of food. He tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, gritting his teeth at the pain.

"Here-" suddenly there were warm hands grasping him under the armpits and carefully pulling him up. Daryl tried to shrug Rick off, but the movement stung, so he let himself be manhandled into a sitting position. When Rick pulled back, he was looking at Daryl with furrowed brows. Daryl realised the sheets had slipped down again and he scrambled to pull them back up, face heating up. Fully expecting Rick to leave, he just stared down at the covers of the bed, waiting for him to move. Instead, Rick sank into the chair by the bed. Daryl scowled and looked up. Rick was just sitting in the chair with a contemplative look on his face. Daryl cleared his throat and Rick looked to him.

"You, uh, gon stay here all night?" he asked, voice rough from disuse and dehydration. The glass of water by the bedside looked very good all at once, and he reached for it, wincing at the pain the movement brought.

"Well," Rick said as he grabbed the glass and handed it gently to Daryl, "I figured we could talk while you ate."

"'Bout what?" Daryl asked, a sudden dread filling in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly nauseous, he cradled the glass in his lap, untouched. He stared down at his hands, discoloured with blood and dirt, gripping the glass a little too tightly.

"I want to talk about the CDC."

Daryl stilled, his heart thumping wildly. He'd expected it to be brought up again, but hoped Rick would just let it be.

"I'm sorry," Rick said, and Daryl blinked, slowly raising his head to look at the other man. He stayed silent, just staring warily at Rick.

"I was out of place, I should never have made you talk about anythin' you didn't want to. I let my curiosity cloud my judgement- I should've never pushed you about your, uh, condition."

_Condition_. Daryl's eyes widened a fraction and he looked away, shame burning his skin.

"You know-"

"Yes," Rick cut in, "That first day, I mean I suspected but-" he shook his head, "I never shoulda pressured you. When I had time to think about it, it all made sense."

He paused, and Daryl kept quiet, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's okay, y'know-" Rick said, "I mean, of course it's okay- what you are- who you are- it doesn't make you any less of a person Daryl," he stammered, and Daryl looked up, frowning. Rick was looking down, his cheeks dusted pink.

"I understand why you don't want people know, and I will keep your secret- but, I just want you to know you don't hafta be ashamed."

Daryl glowered, torn between frustration and relief.

"Shit," he growled, "You got no place in tellin' me what I should an' shouldn' be ashamed of. Hell, you can't even look at me," he clenched his fists, "I ain't normal, never was- you don't need ta pretend."

"Daryl-" Rick started, his head snapping up, "S'not like that-"

Daryl scoffed, "Yeah? Wha's it like?"

"I don't have to pretend anythin'," Rick said, leaning forward with an earnest look on his face. Daryl did his best not recoil, but ended up shifting anyway. Rick noticed and pulled back slightly with a sad look on his face.

"It don't matter whether you're normal or not- hell, the word don't even mean anythin' anymore. What you got in your pants's the least of anyone's concerns right now. I just wanted you to know it don't change nothin' between us," he stood slowly, patting Daryl's knee as he straightened, and ignoring the slosh of water as Daryl flinched away.

"I mean it Daryl, it's all okay," he paused, reaching for the doorknob, and Daryl was silent, staring at Rick, searching for a lie in his eyes. Rick sighed and gave a weak smile.

"Eat. Take your meds. Get some rest."

With that, the door clicked shut, and Daryl was left alone to unravel the feeling that tangled up in his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter skips to season three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u like! pls critique!

Crickets chirped as the roar of Daryl’s motorcycle subsided, and he kicked up the stand, slipping off to join the others where they’d gathered around the map spread across the hood of one of the cars. They were still travelling from place to place, though winter had dissipated into the warm air of spring. Everyone knew they needed to find somewhere to settle soon, with Lori’s ever-growing belly serving as a constant reminder of their precarious situation. Daryl listened as everyone discussed their options, observing each of the group members; they all looked tired and worn, and Daryl knew they wouldn’t be able to take much more moving around. Rick looked especially haggard, and Daryl didn’t miss the way his eyes kept flitting to where Lori sat in the car. He quelled the bitterness that rose in his throat, and turned his attention back to the map as the conversation died down. T-Dog and a few others split off to find water, and Daryl grabbed his crossbow; now that it was warmer, the likelihood of catching some decent game was a lot higher. He made his way over to Rick, feeling that he’d appreciate some time away from the group. The stress from Lori’s pregnancy and the responsibility of keeping everyone alive was visible in the way Rick carried himself. Daryl wanted to shoulder that burden for a bit, and give Rick a chance to rest his mind.

"Hey," Daryl grunted, drawing his bow, "While the others go wash their panties, let's go huntin'- that owl didn't exactly hit the spot."

Rick nodded, shooting a lingering glance to where Lori was speaking to Carl.

"Where we headed?" Daryl asked, and Rick turned his attention to him, shrugging.

"You tell me, you know best."

"Damn right I do," Daryl muttered, and Rick's lips twitched upwards. Daryl jerked his head towards the trees- he didn't have a specific direction in mind; they'd just go as the trail led them, but first they had to find a trail.

The sun's burning heat ebbed as they made their way through the trees, the light shining down obscured by leaves and branches of trees in bloom. They walked in comfortable silence, Daryl keeping an eye out for any signs of animal life, while Rick did his best to move as quietly as possible. The trees grew thinner and Daryl was the first to spot the rails cutting through the forest. He caught Rick's eye and nodded towards the tracks. The slope they were on gave a good view of the surrounding area, and they followed the tracks down a ways, until there was a break in the trees, and the outline of a prison stood out over a stream.

"Tha's a shame," Daryl said, looking out to the yard swarming with walkers.

"Yeah," Rick murmured, and Daryl shot him a glance. Rick had a contemplative look on his face, and Daryl waited for him to speak.

"We could take it," Rick said, turning from the prison to face Daryl, an earnest look in his eye, "If we could clear them out, we could take it."

Daryl squinted at the yard, observing the fence. He couldn't spot a breach on this side, so the walkers had to have gotten in from the other end.

"If we seal off that part," he said, pointing to a gate between the inner and outer yard, "We could take out all the walkers in that section, then work our way in, bit by bit."

Rick nodded, and Daryl could see that the gears in his head were turning. The promise of safety was inviting after a hard winter on the road.

"'s a good plan," Rick shifted, putting a hand across his forehead to block out the sun, "Let's turn back, see what the others think."

Daryl grunted in agreement. Out out the corner of his eye he spotted movement, and he held up a hand, signalling Rick to be silent. A little ways into the trees, a rabbit was munching on some bark, oblivious to the two men on the rails. Daryl hitched up his bow, but Rick stopped him.

"Can I try?" Rick asked, hesitating. Daryl smirked and handed the bow over. Even if Rick missed, there was still plenty of opportunity to nab something else on their way back. Besides, Daryl had been meaning to show Rick how to use the bow anyway.

"Here," he said, voice low as he helped Rick adjust his grip. With one hand on Rick's shoulder, and the other on his forearm, Daryl guided the bow into place.

"Alright," he whispered, his head by Rick's ear, "line up yer sights, an' squeeze the trigger just like you would with yer gun, but the kick’s gonna be worse."

Rick took a deep breath and exhaled, and Daryl stood tense by his side, eyes on the rabbit, but focusing on Rick in his periphery. He was acutely aware of their proximity- could practically feel the heat from Rick’s skin through his shirt, and had to stop himself from leaning into it.

Rick squeezed the trigger, and the string released with a thwang. The unsuspecting rabbit kicked up leaves as the arrow struck, impaling it into the dirt. Daryl relaxed, turning to Rick with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A grin split Rick's face, and Daryl felt a flutter in his chest; Rick was so carefree in that second, and Daryl did his best to memorise every line of the expression. Their eyes met, and for a moment Daryl couldn't look away. Then his eyes flickered down to Rick's mouth of their own accord, drawn by the glint of his teeth under stretched pink lips. When their eyes met again, Rick leaned in, and his warm lips brushed against Daryl's for a brief moment, before Daryl flinched away. He took a step back and stared silently at Rick, eyes wide and heart hammering in his chest.

"The hell was that?" Daryl felt all too aware of his mouth forming the words, and he had to consciously stop himself from licking his lips.

"I - I don't know, I just-" Rick shrugged helplessly and looked everywhere but Daryl, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I mean, I did mean- I-" he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "It just sorta happened."

Daryl stared at him in silence, fighting the impulse to step back further. Rick shifted uncomfortably and looked up at him. His lips were pressed together in a taut line, his gaze unreadable. He stepped forward and held out the crossbow. Daryl took it slowly, careful not to brush the fingers gripping the strap with his own. Rick tried to catch his eye, but Daryl pointedly kept his gaze down; the last thing he wanted was to talk about what happened. The forest was loud in their silence, and even the rustling of the trees was thunderous in Daryl’s ears. Anger and embarrassment boiled under his skin.

"Let's go get that rabbit 'fore some undead bastard gets lucky," he said, turning away before he could give into the urge to punch Rick. Rick took the hint, and Daryl heard the crunch of Rick's footsteps as he followed Daryl to where the arrow stuck up from the ground. The arrow was embedded in upper torso of the still twitching rabbit. Daryl squatted down and took out his knife, slitting the animal's throat smoothly before he removed the arrow. The rabbit was a skinny thing, and Daryl grimaced as he picked it up. His heart was still beating rapidly, but Daryl forced himself to focus.

"Well, s'better than nothin'," he said, deliberately casual. Rick was looking at him like he wanted to talk, but to Daryl's relief, he stuck to the subject.

"Maybe we'll get lucky again along the way; few more of those and we could cook up somethin' nice."

Daryl grunted in agreement, and tied their catch to a string at his waist, before picking up his bow and jerking his head back the way they came. Rick nodded, and they started back towards the group in silence. The air was thick between them, and if Daryl walked a few paces further from Rick than usual, neither of them mentioned it.

\---

The plan for taking the prison was solid, but being confined to the guard tower was aggravating, and as Rick made his way across the field of the prison, Daryl wished it were him down there instead; Rick had a family, a pregnant wife, and if something happened to him, the whole group would suffer So Daryl kept a careful eye on him, taking down a walker that had gotten to close for comfort. The small nod Rick gave in return eased the tension in his chest, and he gave a nod back as he loaded another bolt. He followed Rick with his bow as the gate was sealed, and a wave of relief washed over him as Rick disappeared into the guard tower.

"He did it," Carol said, disbelief laced in her tone.

"Light it up," Daryl called out, and the crack of gunfire echoed through the air. He couldn't help but sneak a glance at over to the other tower. Rick fired off a few rounds, then reloaded, a grin blooming on his face that made Daryl's own lips quirk unconsciously upwards.

After they secured the yard, Rick clapped Daryl on the shoulder with a nod, and Daryl gave the shadow of a smile back, not missing the way Rick withdrew his hand quicker than he used to. Shaking off a strange sense of disappointment, he went to retrieve his arrows, before helping the rest of the group clear the bodies left by their assault.

By the time night fell, the yard was empty of corpses, and the smell of cooked meat wafted in the air. The portion that Carol brought him dulled the hunger in Daryl’s stomach a bit, and while the ache wasn’t gone, he was used to it, and pushed it easily from his mind. Other things were not so easy to forget, even with Carol’s idle banter serving as a distraction. As they made their way back to the group, Daryl looked over to where Rick was returning from patrolling the fence. His stature was stiff, and Daryl flexed his hands as they neared, still feeling the knotted muscles of Carol's back, and wondering what Rick's would feel like.

"Better all turn in," Rick said as he squatted down by the fire, interrupting Daryl’s train of thought. He listened quietly as the other man talked: Rick wanted them to try and clear the prison tomorrow, and although Daryl was exhausted, he agreed. It was selfish, but so long as there was danger, and he was occupied with surviving, Daryl didn’t have time to dwell on his thoughts.

"An armoury?" Daryl interrupted as Rick mentioned the potential of the prison. Rick looked at him, his expression shuttering from something unreadable to a casual glance.

"That'd be outside the prison itself, not too far away," Rick replied almost earnestly, and looked around the group, "The warden's offices would have info on the location."

Weapons. Fuel. Medicine. Daryl nodded to himself in agreement, trying not to stare at Rick’s mouth as he talked. Instead he allowed himself to follow the way the light danced on the planes of Rick’s face, lending its life to the worn man before him. A shallow smile spread on Rick’s face as he looked to Carl, not quite reaching his eyes.

"These assholes don't stand a chance," he said, the profanity falling clumsily from his mouth. It had the intended effect, however unsubtle, and Carl returned his dad’s smile. Daryl snorted quietly. Sometimes he forgot how easy kids were to impress. Shooting a final determined look around the circle, Rick stood and walked away, leaving no room for argument, though Daryl doubted that anyone would say anything anyway.

Lori got up to follow Rick, and Daryl settled himself down, studying her retreating silhouette out the corner of his eye. He fought the urge to spy as he lay, though he couldn't help the way his eyes darted up every now and then. Feeling foolish, he shuffled around, turning so that he was facing away, and slowly drifted off into uneasy sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of lori's death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my chapters skip a lot i'm sorry

Night was just settling as Daryl and Maggie arrived back in the prison. The motorcycle had barely stopped before Maggie hopped off, and Daryl tossed her the bag with the formula before dismounting quickly and following her in. In the hall, the echo of their footsteps quickly joined the crying of the baby, and relief mingled with worry in Daryl’s chest. A baby crying meant she was alive, but crying could mean anything.

The baby was in Carl’s arms, wriggling around as he rocked her. Daryl felt a stab of pity for the kid- the responsibility he’d been handed was too much for some adults, let alone a child. He dropped his bow as he walked to Carl, bending down to ease the baby from his arms.

“Shhh,” he soothed, standing and rocking her gently. The baby was lighter than he anticipated, and he held her delicately, afraid that one wrong move would break her. Her skin shone in the dim light, and Daryl could barely take his eyes off her as he motioned for Beth to hand him the bottle. He put the bottle to the infant’s lips, and sighed in relief when she latched on, his lips quirking up of their own accord. Everyone had gathered around, and Daryl glanced up, smile still on his face. He searched the crowd for Rick, but he was no where in sight.

“She got a name yet?” he asked, turning his attention to Carl.

“Not yet,” Carl replied, eyes following the curves of the baby’s face, “I was thinkin’ maybe Sophia.”

Daryl’s face fell as Carl hesitantly listed names. He wanted to say no, wanted to protest because giving the baby the name of a dead girl didn’t seem right. It would be wrong to start her life off on a crippled foot. The air in the room had gotten heavy with memories, and Daryl didn’t want to dwell. He turned his attention back to the child in his arms, his face lightening up at the bottle tugging in his hand.

“Y’like that?” he whispered past a smile, “Huh, lil asskicker?” Daryl looked up at the others with a grin, trying to lighten the mood, “Right? Tha’s a good name, right?”

A smattering of giggles went through the room, and Daryl’s smile widened as he looked back to the baby in his arms. Carl stood by, eyes shiny, but crinkled happily. Daryl held out the baby carefully, and Carl took her with a look of intense concentration. Daryl huffed a laugh and stepped back, watching as Carl held his sister as though she was made of glass.

“Hey,” Glenn said from behind him, and Daryl nearly jumped. He turned and looked at Glenn narrowly. Glenn glanced at the crowd that had gathered around Carl and the baby, and motioned to a more secluded corner of the room. Daryl followed Glenn over, stooping to grab his crossbow along the way. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest as Glenn turned to face him.

“It’s Rick,” Glenn started, answering Daryl’s silent question, and Daryl’s heart leapt to his throat, “He’s in the tunnels. Won’t come out. I’ve tried to get him myself but-” Glenn shook his head, “He nearly took me out with a hatchet. Wouldn’t say a word.”

Daryl let out a slow breath, trying to slow his heart. He had been expecting worse.

“I’ll go get him,” he said as he bent and drew the string on his bow, sliding a bolt in. It clicked into place and Daryl hefted it up, checking the sights and trying not to think about Rick’s arms under his hands as he adjusted his grip, “Just tell me where y’saw him last.”

Glenn led him to the dank halls and pointed him in the right direction. Daryl walked carefully, making sure to step around bodies as he followed a trail of glistening blood down the hall. Rounding a corner, he spotted a figure leaning against a pipe. With his bow trained on the body, he move slowly around until he was facing it, and only after a second did he realise it was Rick. Covered in blood, he looked like any other corpse, and Daryl suppressed a shudder, pushing away the image of an undead Rick from his mind.

“Hey,” he said warily, but Rick gave no indication that he’d heard him.

“Rick,” Daryl said as he squatted down beside him, shouldering his bow, “C’mon,” he tried, risking a light touch to Rick’s shoulder. Rick started, and Daryl flinched, anticipating a blow, but Rick just turned to face him. Blood was splattered across his face, and his vacant blue eyes were unnervingly stark against the red.

“Rick, we gotta getcha back,” Daryl said, forcing himself to meet Rick’s gaze, “Carl’s worryin’ ‘bout you- we all are. An’ the baby, she needs her dad.”

Something flickered behind Rick’s eyes at the mention of the baby, and Daryl pressed the point.

“C’mon,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a rag, “Let’s getcha cleaned up. Can’t have you scarin’ the baby lookin’ like y’do.”

When Rick made no move to take the offered cloth, Daryl frowned and slowly brought it to Rick’s face, gently scrubbing the blood from his brow. Rick closed his eyes and let out a shuddery low breath, leaning into Daryl’s hand as the cloth swept over his skin. It wasn’t perfect, but by the time the cloth had gotten too saturated to be of any more use, Rick looked passably human. Daryl twisted the rag, watching as blood dribbled between his fingers and hit the dusty floor with a patter.

“Thank you.”

Daryl looked up sharply at the words. Rick was looking at him, and Daryl was relieved to see that some life had found its way back into his eyes.

“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” Daryl shook his head, twisting the rag again, and a fresh wave of blood ran over his knuckles. He dropped the rag on the concrete and sat, leaning with his back against the pipe. Rick’s arm was pressed against his for a moment, then Rick slumped, dropping his head to Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl froze, Rick’s warm weight heavy against him. Blood dripped from Daryl’s fingers onto the floor, and he could feel Rick trembling. Snapping out of his shock, Daryl shifted, awkwardly wrapping an arm around Rick’s shoulders, and Rick sank further into his side, pressing his face into Daryl’s neck. Warm breath fluttered over Daryl’s skin, sending goosebumps up the back of his neck.

“S’alright,” Daryl muttered, unsure of what to do, “S’alright,” he settled for stroking the back of Rick’s head, ignoring the way his fingers smeared blood onto his hair. Rick shook quietly in his arms, before letting out a muffled sob, and Daryl could feel wetness spread on the skin of his neck. Daryl sat stiffly while Rick clung to him, carding his fingers through Rick’s hair in silence, until Rick’s sobs faded into echoes in the darkness.


End file.
